


Similarity and Solidarity

by leporidae



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Exposition, Gen, M/M, Parallels, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-24 02:07:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14945588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leporidae/pseuds/leporidae
Summary: During an attempt to comfort Killua, Kite learns that they are not very different after all - a reality that is unfortunate for the both of them.





	Similarity and Solidarity

**Author's Note:**

> I love considering the parallels between Kite and Killua and their near-worship of Ging and Gon respectively, so I wanted to dedicate some writing to exploring it. If given the chance, I still think the two of them would have gotten along well in canon, and perhaps even connected on a deeper level. But alas, we'll never know.
> 
> This takes place around the beginning of the Chimera Ant arc, before Kite and his group arrived at NGL.
> 
> (And yes, I'm going to make all titles of my Hunter x Hunter fics rhyme like the Japanese titles of the episodes.)

There’s no trace of the Chimera Ant on the beach near Yorknew City, no scent for Banana’s dog (or Gon, for that matter) to follow, and Kite knows his team will have to approach the problem from a different angle. But Killua’s words from before still haunt him, voicing the fear everyone had been thinking but no one wanted to admit – that if the Chimera Ants had grown as large as the limb suggested, they could eat human beings. And Chimera Ants are a threat which vastly outclasses that of other creatures known to attack humans. At least animals like Foxbears can be taken out individually when they become aggressive; Chimera Ants are organized and adaptable, and if their species evolves too much before their team manages to find and exterminate the nest, a full blown war could develop between them and all of humanity.

With a shiver, Kite glances over to Killua, Gon’s companion and the one who had dared raise the pessimistic possibility. Killua is part of the Zoldyck family, a name which within the Hunter Association carries as much or more weight than that of Freecss. Zoldycks are fearsomely trained assassins with honed instincts and a sense of duty that binds them together as an organization rather than a collective of individuals. Thankfully Kite had never as of yet had use for their services himself, but he knows they have deep ties to the Association despite not all possessing Hunter licenses themselves, and that they were occasionally hired by the Chairman himself to exterminate dire threats.

Kite wonders what the catalyst had been for Killua to escape from such a lifestyle. Most likely it could be traced back to Gon, a boy blessed (or cursed) with Ging’s dangerous magnetism. When Killua and Gon had appeared before him, Killua’s distrust of Kite had practically been radiating off him in waves, and he had only relaxed after Gon explained their past connection. As an assassin, Killua must have been trained to be on guard at all times, so Kite hadn’t taken the reaction personally. Still, he can’t help but think that Killua’s Zoldyck instincts, combined with his obvious devotion to Gon, make the boy a rather fearsome ally.

Sensing Kite’s stare with those very instincts, Killua’s cold gaze flicks up suddenly. If Kite had been younger and less sure of himself, he would have pulled the brim of his hat down over his eyes to shield himself from the intensity of Killua’s suspicion. “Stop staring, old man,” Killua says with the bluntness of someone who values tact very little.

Jab at his age aside, Kite can’t help but feel faintly amused, a sentiment he pushes aside lest the ghost of a smile visibly creep onto his face and offend the boy. Killua is the kind of person who would withdraw into himself at the slightest provocation, so Kite remains silent for a moment, considering how best to approach his words to minimize backlash. “Gon’s lucky to have someone as capable as you watching his back,” he says finally. “He’s impulsive, and you think before you act. The two of you strike a good balance.”

The straightforward remark seems to convince Killua he’s not being scrutinized or mocked, and some of the tension leaves his shoulders. “Yeah, well — we’re friends,” Killua says, but glances downward, and the otherwise innocent statement sounds instead almost like a regret.

Kite turns his attention back to Gon, who’s chatting with Spinner and Banana as though he’s known them for years. He can’t hear their words from this distance, but he can see their enthusiasm as Gon impresses them with an alluring smile. Still, despite Gon’s social nature, his intentions can be difficult to read. He’s an ever-changing puzzle, with pieces Killua probably can’t seem to make fit no matter how hard he tries, and Kite can tell it frustrates him. That much had been apparent in Killua’s words — _we’re friends_ — and the tone of longing and uncertainty with which he had spoken them.

“Of course you are,” Kite says, but when Killua scowls he worries  the response had been too vapid. “Well — he consistently wished for you to travel with him. I’m sure Gon has befriended plenty of people during your travels, knowing him, so that choice was certainly not meaningless.”

“Are you trying to make me feel better?” Killua snaps.

Kite considers. “That depends on if you’re feeling down in the first place.”

Killua frowns, glancing at Gon once more before turning his attention back to Kite. “Gon told me a bit about you when we were on Whale Island together.”

“Oh?”

Killua picks at his sleeve, and Kite can sense the frustration in his restless hands and furrowed brow. “He feels connected to you,” he says. “Because of Ging. You have history, he looks up to you. And —“ The boy swallows. “I don’t know why I’m even having this conversation with you.”

“You feel left out,” Kite says before he can think to word it more gently. Tact has never been his strong suit, either. “Or, rather, it bothers you that Gon has others he cares about from his past, and it makes you feel distant, as though you don’t know him.”

Killua says nothing.

Kite sighs. “Gon and I only met briefly in the past, when I told him about his father. But he’s a lot like GIng-san, from what I can tell. He’s stubborn. Once he’s got his mind set on something, everyone else winds up along for the ride. That includes both of us. Still, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t care about you, Killua. Even if he can be a bit frustrating at times, like his father.”

“You know Ging well,” Killua says, and it’s not quite a question, but a challenge.

“I’m not sure,” Kite admits, and he feels a pang of something akin to longing in his own chest, as though he too has returned to his youth, beholding that unattainable, radiant person for the first time. “I know him as well as he let me know him.”

Killua softens, then looks away. “I’m not sure how well I know Gon, either.”

Kite feels nothing but sympathy for Killua. In some ways Gon is a spitting image of his father: elusive and selfish, inspiring and confusing. But he’s also not Ging. Gon thrives in large groups, charms strangers, and is fiercely protective of those he cares about. Gon drags Killua on his singleminded adventures without a second thought and takes Killua’s presence for granted, but it’s easy to tell he does genuinely care about his friend. He doesn’t hide their companionship behind tough love or arrogance, and he wouldn’t just leave Killua without warning.

...Or maybe he would. Admittedly, as much as Kite wants to give Gon credit for displaying sensitivity that Ging cannot, he’s also not certain Gon truly is that different. Though Gon is adept at pulling others into his orbit, at the end of the day he still considers himself the center of that orbit. Killua is at the mercy of that gravitational pull, and Kite doesn’t know how to guide him to escape it, because any advice he gives will be hypocritical.

Killua’s eyes are scanning him again, and despite his silence Kite can practically feel the boy’s analysis — though what conclusion it will come to, Kite isn’t sure. After Killua scrutinizes him for a bit too long to be comfortable, he speaks. “What was it like, traveling with Ging?”

He doesn’t say it directly, but Killua is clearly hoping to learn how to deal with Gon vicariously through Kite’s experiences with Ging. Kite is aware of this, though for the sake of Killua’s pride he pretends like he isn’t when he answers the question. “He was my Nen instructor,” Kite begins carefully, “and he prepared me to take the Hunter Exam. So he wasn’t just my friend, but my teacher as well. Therefore, he took me on ridiculous trips constantly — or at least what felt like constantly — to boost my strength. For example —“

“But — but you _were_ friends.”

Kite pauses, shamefully uncertain whether or not to affirm the label. “Yes, we were friends,” he says after a beat. “...We still _are_ friends, but our goals don’t quite overlap, as we are different kinds of Hunters. Therefore, it would be counterproductive for us to travel together.”

He hasn’t seen Ging for a long time, but he knows at the very least they aren’t strangers and Ging has some modicum of respect for him, most likely because he trained Kite himself. Imagining a reunion between them is somehow unpleasant, though. Perhaps Kite has grown used to operating without Ging, and having him back would disrupt his new rhythm. Seeing Ging again would thrust him back into his old cycle of wanting to please his mentor, growing frustrated with Ging’s opaque thoughts, and yearning for better communication that would never come. Ging would tease him without thinking in that way of his that’s supposed to come across awkwardly endearing but really just makes him seem like an asshole, and Kite would grow defensive. They would probably argue, a one-sided argument where Ging wouldn’t understand Kite’s frustration in the slightest, until Kite would have to give up, because there’d never be any point to it.

And occasionally, they would sit in peaceful silence, fleetingly enjoying each other’s company, which in turn would remind Kite of the pain of knowing that such peace would never last. When it came to Ging, nothing ever did. Despite that, Kite still considers his relationship with Ging at least something akin to friendship — at least how Ging defines friendship, anyway. That’s probably as good as Kite is ever going to get.

Killua looks thoughtful, and a bit skeptical, so Kite speaks again. “Gon, without doubt, views you as a friend. He’s proud of having you by his side, so much so that he made sure to warp you here to introduce you to his father. Well, to the person he thought would be his father,” he adds wryly.

His eyes trained on the ground, Killua says nothing.

“If there’s something you want Gon to know,” Kite adds cautiously, “he probably won’t get it unless you tell him directly. If he’s anything like his father, anyway.”

“How would you know what I want Gon to know?” Killua snaps, and then looks surprised, as if he hadn’t expected the outburst from himself.

Kite smiles sadly. Killua may act hardened and standoffish, but his sentiment towards Gon is painfully clear (to everyone but Gon). He sees in Killua a fragile boy who had lived a dreadful existence before Gon had appeared in his life, a ray of sun breaking through hopeless shadow. He sees in Killua’s eyes the agony of knowing no matter what he does to repay Gon, he’ll always perceive himself indebted to his friend. He sees Killua always trailing behind Gon, watching his back, longing to reach out and grasp his hand from behind, a gesture that would convey his tenderness for the boy who had become his guiding light. But Gon himself only looks _forward, forward, forward_ — towards his own mission, his own goals, his own world.

Always trailing behind - Kite knows the feeling well. History has a laughably ironic way of repeating itself, after all.

“I know,” Kite says simply.

Sympathy flashes in Killua’s eyes, and Kite knows in that moment he’s exposed his own emotions to an extent from which he can never backtrack. “Were you and Ging — uh —“ Again Killua glances over at Gon, absently tapping the ground with the toe of his shoe, and the spark of affection in Killua’s eyes when he beholds his friend is enough to embarrass Kite a little, very aware of the parallel being drawn.

“No.”

“Did you want to be?”

“Ah, well.” How had it come to this? Kite had genuinely wanted to help Killua, yet somehow they’re now discussing Kite’s feelings instead, feelings he had never admitted to his team, or (god forbid) Ging himself. And now he’s dangerously close to having this discussion for the first time with a young and distrusting assassin he’d known for all of a few hours. “Ging-san isn’t very sociable,” Kite says cautiously. Even after all this time, he can’t kick the respectful honorific with which he’d referred to Ging since the days of his training. “And I — well, I’m doing other things, too, so at this point we’d probably just get in each other’s way if we traveled together.” Kite is well aware _he’d_ be the one getting in _Ging’s_ way if anything, but he figures framing it as a mutual burden is a little less pathetic. “But I suppose... I thought about it,” he finally manages, tugging the brim of his hat down after all, though it’s impossible for him to truly hide from this conversation anymore. “It was hard not to be in awe of him at times. I guess it's genetic.”

It’s clear Killua isn’t remotely comforted by this — in fact, he seems less at ease than ever before. “Yeah…”

“You should talk to Gon,” Kite says softly, the words heavy on his tongue. “Don’t be me.”

The boy’s face goes blank, and Kite knows the conversation is over.

“Kite, Killua!” The voice is unmistakably Gon’s, increasing in volume as he dashes towards them, and both jump slightly, exchanging one last painful glance before looking away for good. “Don’t be discouraged, we’ll figure this out.” He beams up at Kite, with a face that’s so familiar it makes his stomach flip. “There’s got to be another lead. We'll find what we're looking for, I'm sure of it!”

“Or sniffing for, in your case,” Killua jokes dully, and Kite doesn’t have to see his face to know what he’s feeling when Gon laughs.

After all, he’d felt it plenty of times himself.


End file.
